


Flower Shop

by Thamys020



Series: Macbeth Modern AU [1]
Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Duncan is an ableist asshole, Duncan's A+ Parenting, Flower Language, Jeremy is a little bitch, Lady Macduff's name is Favianna and she's a lesbian queen, M/M, Malcolm is a sobft flower boy, Modern AU, Sirrah is a ray of sunshine, autistic characters, duncan is an asshole in general, everyone lives!, except for duncan because fuck him, flower shop, he ditches his date, macduff is a good dude, poor silvie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 09:36:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thamys020/pseuds/Thamys020
Summary: After his amicable divorce with his now-ex Favianna, Macduff’s been on a couple dates, but no one’s really stuck with him, until he runs into the flower shop to get a bouquet for his newest date.





	Flower Shop

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to HereWeGoLads for beta reading this, because i cannot spell.

The bell above the door to the shop rang as Macduff entered, brushing off his dinner jacket. He examined some of the bouquets before his eyes went to the counter. 

There was only one person at the desk. He had fluffy curls, and had a sparkly butterfly hair clip holding a few away from his face. He also was very small.    
Taking a deep breath, because his chest felt tight all the sudden, Macduff walked up to the desk, and sat down on a chair near the desk.    
“C-Can I help you?” The employee asked, a light blush dusting his face. His nametag read  _ Malcolm _ in barely legible writing. 

“Uh...maybe?” Macduff said, voice cracking embarrassingly.   
“Oh...kay? W-What can I help you with?”    
“Uh…” Macduff said, mind blanking. “I don’t know…? Sorry.”    
A long pause as Malcolm seemed to look everywhere but Macduff’s face.    
“I-Is there, uh, anything in the store y-you’re interested in?” Malcolm asked.    
Macduff scanned the rows of flowers behind Malcolm and randomly pointed at some bright orange ones. Malcolm started laughing when he saw what Macduff pointed to. 

“You  _ really _ hate the person who these flowers are for, don’t you.” He giggled.   
“Uh, shit, no. I just picked them randomly.” Macduff laughed awkwardly. “Why? What do they mean?”    
“Orange lilies mean hatred and or anger. They’re not nice plants.” Malcolm explained. “But they’re pretty.” He said, almost to himself.

“But if they mean hatred and anger, why do you have them here?” Macduff asked.    
“Funeral for someone you hate. An Ex’s wedding.” Malcolm explained. “I make ‘Fuck You’ bouquets.”    
Macduff was startled into laughter.   
“That’s awesome.” He said. “How’s that done?”    
Malcolm lit up. 

“So you’d need geraniums for stupidity, foxglove, insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations, which mean you have disappointed me, and orange lilies for obvious reasons. It would be quite striking! And full of loathing.”    
“Woah.” Macduff said. Malcolm grinned shyly. “It’s so cool how you know all that. The only flower I know the meaning of is green carnations, and that’s more of a social connotation than anything.”    
“O-Oh, thank you.” Malcolm stammered. His face was an even brighter red. “I just...love flowers an unhealthy amount. I can lend you some books if you want.”    
Macduff was about to respond, when his phone lit up in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the message.    
  
_ Silvie: Hey.  _ _   
_ _ Silvie: Where are you? _ _   
_   
“Do you...need to go somewhere?” Malcolm asked.    
Macduff looked back up at him, then down at his phone.    
  
__ You: Sorry, something came up last minute. Won’t be able to come. 

  
He shut off his phone and looked back at Malcolm.    
“No. No I don’t. Please continue.” Macduff said.    
***   
A half an hour or so later, Macduff had learned which flowers were good for an apology bouquet, which flowers meant love, and ten flowers not to give people because they were secretly offensive, and Malcolm still kept going.    
“So do all lilies mean hatred?” Macduff asked.    
“No.” Malcolm said. “Yellow lilies are good for apologies as well. White lilies mean innocence and--” The door behind him swung open with a bang. 

“Hey, stop boring the customer! We don’t pay you to sit around on your ass and ramble!” The man from the back room yelled. He wore an apron over an ugly crimson sweater.   
“J-Jeremy--” Malcolm stuttered.    
“Get back to work! God, we should’ve kept you in the back room. Sorry about him, sir.” Jeremy said.    
“Hey, leave him alone.” Macduff said. “I asked him to talk, therefore he is  _ not  _ boring the customer, and also fuck you.”    
Jeremy took a step back, scoffed, then tossed his keys aggressively at Malcolm, who ducked.    
“Close up before eight.” Jeremy snapped. He hung up his apron and stalked out. The bell rang as the door slammed aggressively. 

“O-Okay.” Malcolm stammered, scooping up the keys. He turned to Macduff again, face looking like it was on fire. “No one’s ever stood up f-for me like that, s-so thanks.” He smiled.    
“ _ Nobody? _ ” Macduff asked incredulously.    
“No...n-not really.” Malcolm mumbled. 

“So do you get along with your co-workers?” Macduff asked.    
“They make a lot of jokes.” Malcolm said. He bit his lip. “They aren’t funny.”   
_ That sounds a lot like what Sirrah says about the kids in his class. _ Macduff thought.    
“You sound like Sirrah.” Macduff said.    
“Who’s Sirrah?” Malcolm asked.    
“Sirrah’s my youngest.” Macduff said. “He’s a sweet kid, very opinionated. He’s honestly such a joy to be around even though he’s a lot to handle.” 

“A lot to handle?”    
“He doesn’t get a lot of jokes, and can’t really pick up on social cues. He gets bullied a lot in school.” Macduff said. “Luckily his big sister is always around to help him out. He also can’t  _ stand _ certain textures, which makes finding things he likes to wear a challenge.”    
“He...sounds a lot like me…” Malcolm said.    
_ Oh. _ Macduff thought.    
“Sirrah’s autistic.” Macduff said. “Are you?”    
“What’s autistic?” Malcolm asked.    
“It’s a neurodivergence.” Macduff started. “It’s also a spectrum. Sirrah and you are lower on this spectrum, which means you can interact with people, but you don’t get social cues, and certain things just bother you, and some subjects were probably really hard in school, and socializing is really hard.”    
“That’s a...that’s a  _ thing _ ?” Malcolm asked, a tear sliding down his face.    
“Yes. You...weren’t diagnosed, were you?” Macduff asked.    
“N-no, no, I--” He smiled, another tear following the first despite his smile. “I’m not all those things, I’m not a--this is a  _ thing _ .”    
Macduff was almost afraid to ask. “What things?” He asked tentatively.    
Malcolm’s smile dropped.    
“Uh, w-well my dad…” He flapped one of his hands nervously, before shoving both his hands under the desk. “He d-didn't really like that I...wasn’t normal...and...he called me some...choice names…” Malcolm started full on crying. “He w-was particularly f-fond of the r-word.”    
Macduff felt his blood start to boil.    
“He said that to you?” Macduff asked, trying to keep his cool.    
“O-Only when h-he w-was angry or drunk or b-both, or I w-wasn’t there.” Malcolm cried, trying to wipe his face. “B-But he was w-wrong, I’m n-not…” The unspoken  _ right? _ hung in the air as Malcolm attempted to stop the flow of tears.    
Macduff found a box of tissues on the desk and handed one to Malcolm.    
“May I kill your dad?” He asked and Malcolm giggled tearfully.    
“H-He’s dead now. He died a couple m-months ago in a c-car accident.” Malcolm said.    
“Did you give him a fuck you bouquet?” Macduff asked and Malcolm laughed.    
“I wish.” He said, wiping his face.    
“You didn't deserve that, Malcolm, I’m sorry.” Macduff said.    
“I-It’s fine.” Malcolm hiccuped, a smile taking hold on his face.    
Macduff’s phone buzzed and he took it out. On the screen, a couple messages from Silvie appeared and one message from Favianna flashed up. 

_ Favianna: Hey. How’s it going? _ _   
_ _ You: Well.  _ _   
_ _ Favianna: What do you think?  _ _   
_ _ You: He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. _ _   
_ _ Favianna: Hold up. _ _   
_ _ Favianna: Aren’t you out with Silvie? _ _   
_ _ You: About that. _ _   
_ _ Favianna: You fool. You absolute buffoon. You realize I’m going to have to deal with her complaining about you right?  _ _   
_ __ You: But he was so cute and excited. 

_ Favianna: ...Fine. Have fun. _

“Hey, what time is it?” Malcolm asked.    
“Uh, 7:56.” Macduff said.    
“Oh gosh, I should close up.” Malcolm said. “Hang on.” He fussed around the shop, closing up the shop before hanging up his apron. They left the shop and Malcolm locked the door behind him.    
“That was fun.” Macduff said.    
“Yeah, it was.” Malcolm replied.   
“Do you...want to do it again sometime?” Macduff asked. “I’ll come pick you up around 5 and we go watch a movie?”    
“S-Sure!” Malcolm blurted. “We should get each other’s numbers though.”    
“Of course.” Macduff said. He opened up his phone and pulled up contacts, before handing his phone to Malcolm. Malcolm entered his number, then pulled out his phone, which had a ridiculously pastel cover, and opened up his contacts page. Macduff entered his own number, then his name.    
“Do I call you Ainsley or Macduff?” Malcolm asked once he got his phone back.    
“Macduff is fine.” Macduff said, attempting to ignore the way Ainsley rolled off Malcolm’s tongue.    
“Alright.” Malcolm said. “Text me a good day and I’ll try and clear up my schedule.”    
“I will.” Macduff said. “Do you need a ride home?” He gestured towards his car.   
“No, I bike home.” Malcolm said. Macduff saw a bike with white handles and a pink basket. “I’ll be fine.”   
“Talk to you tomorrow?” Macduff asked.    
“Sure! Absolutely!” Malcolm said, grabbing his helmet out of his basket. He hopped on his bike. “Goodnight Macduff.”    
“Goodnight Malcolm.” Macduff said. Malcolm biked off, humming some song Macduff had heard on the radio somewhere as he did. 

Eventually the tune faded away and Macduff got into his car, unable to prevent the smile on his face. 


End file.
